Big Things on the Horizon

[Harrison, D.]

1400 Hours Local Time, April 1, 2543 (MILITARY CALENDAR) /
Division HQ, MCB Saint Rose, Planet Reach,
Epsilon Eridani System

Lieutenant Colonel Harrison had been summoned.

He'd been enjoying a nice round of golf on the base's own course when he'd received the call to report to the Twenty-Second Division's headquarters, in uniform. The interruption to his game had him irritated, as he'd been ahead of his opponent -- another battalion commander from another regiment -- when the call had come in.

It took him less than half an hour to scramble to his home and change into his utilities before arriving here at the HQ. According to the adjutant to the Commanding General, all of the regiment's officers had been called to meet with the CG at the headquarters, which told him something big was about to happen. Considering their deployment was only a few days off, Harrison knew it had to do with that.

Was the division being mobilized early? Would he have to recall all personnel back to base, effectively cutting short their R&R? What exactly did the CG want that required such a large number of officers and Staff NCOs?

Much to his chagrin, he had more questions than answers. The conversation over the chatter had been succint and to the point. He'd had no time at all to make inquiries, because as soon as the adjutant had said all she'd needed to, the call came to an abrupt end. Harrison sighed, glancing behind him to see the likes of Sergeant Major Leon Carson falling in behind him.

"Sa," the Cockney said with a nod. "W'ere's XO?"

Harrison had expected that question from the Sergeant Major, and had prepared his response. "Spending the day with family. I chose not to call him in."

"Are yew sure 'at's wise, sa? The CG called fer all 'ands on deck," Carson questioned, cleary not willing to go down without a fight.

The Colonel nodded. "I am, Sergeant Major. His place right now is with his wife and children, not suffering with the brass. He doesn't get to see them enough as it is with this damn war going on."

"Roger, sa," the Sergeant Major replied with a drawn out sigh. The man did not take defeat very well at all, much to Harrison's amusement.

That settled, the pair made their way through the threshold of the lobby doors. Harrison was met with the sight of a spacious lobby with dull gray walls emblazoned with the insignia of the UNSC Marine Corps, and bathed in too-bright florescent light. Directly across from them, behind a steel desk, sat a very bored corporal. He stiffened at the sight of the Colonel, snapping to attention.

Harrison waved him off dismissively. He was not in the mood for formality at this point. His leave had been interrupted, and he wanted to know why. "Where's the CG, Corporal?"

The Corporal pointed to his left, down a hall. "Auditorium, sir. The other officers are already present."

Colonek Harrison nodded and turned down the hall, Sergeant Major Carson in tow. He made his way down the hall and to the door to the auditorium, pulling the archaic hinged double-doors open to reveal a massive room on the other side. The auditorium was packed full of the division's officers and senior staff, all of them occupying a good chunk of the three thousand-odd seats set before a large stage.

Behind the stage along the wall was a hundred and thirty inch projector screen, bolted down and clearly displaying what would likely be a slide presentation for all of the division's senior personnel to see. Was this supposed to be some kind of briefing? What was going on?

Deciding it was best to wait for answers rather than start demanding them, Derrick found himself and the Sergeant Major a seat along the edge of the sixth row of seats. He scanned the stage for any trace of the general, and came up woefully empty. It appeared that the aging Marine had yet to show up, which only proved to irritate him further.

The corporal at the duty desk had said the general was here.

It was clear that that had been a lie.

"Bloody 'ell," the Sergeant Major muttered under his breath as he looked around. "I'm feelin' a bi' surrounded 'ere, sa. Know wha' I mean?"

Derrick chuckled and opened his mouth to reply when the sound of shoes clattering against a wooden floor echoed through the auditorium. "ATTENTION ON DECK," exclaimed the division's Sergeant Major, a brick of a man by the name of Hauser. "Howitser" Hauser was the name most in the division knew him by.

Hundreds of uniformed men and women leapt to their feet as the auditorium filled with the staccato of heels clicking together in unison. General Douglas Lee, the Commanding General of the Twenty-Second Marine Division, stepped out onto the stage. Though Derrick had his eyes forward, he noticed another figure trailing behind him, dressed in the distinct ivory uniform of a Navy flag officer.

When the pair moved to the center of the stage, directly in Harrison's line of sight, he was able to better scrutinize the officer that had trailed behind General Lee. He was tall, easily six foot, and possessed broad shoulders that appeared even broader with the shoulderboards. His head was closely shaved and polished, and he sported a salt-and-pepper mustache that drooped over his upper lip and dangled slightly beneath his chin.

The man was built like an ox, and bore the rank insignia of a Rear Admiral upon his shoulders. The nametag stitched into his Dress Whites read, "WHITCOMB, D."

General Lee stepped up to the pedestal at the center of the stage and called the room to at ease. Once everyone had returned to their seats, Admiral Whitcomb took his place at the stand, setting his cover down upon it. "I'm sure, ladies and gentlemen, you're all confused as to why you're here. Maybe even a bit angry. Truthfully, were I in your shoes, I would be too."

Harrison narrowed his eyes as the man spoke. He boasted the accent of a man from Texas on Earth, which seemed appropriate given his appearance. However, it was not his accent that had him aggravated, but his opening statement.

"However, what I am here to tell you is not only important, but perhaps a crucial moment in human history," Whitcomb continued, unphased by some of the looks he received from the audience. "The Covenant have recently seized control of the Atlas moons, a prime piece of real estate here in the Inner Colonies. The entire star system produces raw metals and goods that are used for a laundry list of military applications."

Whitcomb paused for a moment. "Starship production, building projects, and the works have been heavily supplied by the industrial workhorse that is the Atlas moons population, thanks to their abundant natural resources. Now, humanity has lost a major strategic asset. My intention, ladies and gentlemen, is to reacquire our assets through force-of-arms."

[Harrison, D.]

For the better part of an hour, Admiral Whitcomb and his entourage of staff officers had explained the particulars of their proposed operation. A full-scale naval assault of a Covenant fleet in a recently besieged star system. Derrick listened intently to the briefing despite his many reservations about the operation. What the man proposed had only ever been done once, and that had been at Harvest.

Harvest had been a hard fought victory for humanity, but an extremely costly one. It took the UNSC five long years to reclaim the planet from the likes of the Covenant, and hundreds of thousands of lives had been spent in the process to accomplish it. With the way the war was panning out, Harrison could not see much benefit in another protracted campaign for a star system lost to the enemy; especially when, as it stood, there were plenty of human colonies that required defending from the alien onslaught.

Every day it seemed a colony fell to the alien menace. Humanity was slowly running out of territory despite how damn hard they fought to win. Whitcomb intended to pool together a massive fleet to take on this endeavor, which meant pulling resources and ships from worlds in need of protection in case of a Covenant attack. Was one star system really worth the risk?

"The floor is open to questions," Admiral Whitcomb said finally, ending his long spiel about the finer details of the operation's intended scope and goals. "If you all have concerns, I want to hear them."

Derrick debated internally whether or not it would be prudent for him to speak. There were plenty of senior officers that surrounded him, and that left him feeling at least mildly uncomfortable. So much brass in one room generally seemed to complicate things, as no one really wanted to be seen as overstepping their boundaries or speaking out of turn.

However, he felt his concerns warranted answers, and decided to give it a shot. Worst that could happen would be a stern talking to from the regimental commander, of whom he was well acquainted with. "Sir," Derrick said, standing up from his seat to be seen by the officer.

Instantly he felt the majority of the eyes in the room upon him, to include Whitcomb's. "You have something to say, son?"

"Yes, sir," the Colonel replied, nodding. "You are asking for a great deal of manpower and equipment that, quite frankly, could be used elsewhere, with all due respect. You are asking us to gamble thousands of lives, and millions of credits worth of equipment and weaponry, on a plan that has zero guarantee of success. You said yourself that you are gambling on catching the enemy by surprise."

Harrison instantly wondered, after he had finished speaking, if he could have said that in a better way. One a bit less direct and accusative, perhaps. He looked around and saw both his colleagues and betters gazing upon him with mixed emotions. Had he just screwed the pooch?

"What's your name, son?"

Derrick repressed the urge to gulp. "Lieutenant Colonel Harrison, sir."

Whitcomb nodded. "You're right, Colonel Harrison. You are absolutely right. I am gambling with lives and the UNSC's precious arsenal to make this operation a reality. Tell me, how familiar are you with Earth history?"

"I'm... rusty on it, sir," he replied, his brow quirked with curiosity. He wanted to know where this was going.

"If you studied your history at all you may recall during the Second World War of an operation dubbed "Overlord." Most knew it as "D-Day." For those of you whom may be unaware, it was the largest terrestial naval operation in the history of mankind," Whitcomb started to explain.

Harrison listened quietly, interested to see where this was going. "Thousands upon thousands boarded ships bound for German occupied France after months of training to attempt an invasion of the country that would, if successful, lead to a swift end to a war that had been dragging on for four years. The brainchild behind the operation, General Eisenhower, wasn't sure the operation would succeed."

"You see," he continued, "Eisenhower gambled that the Germans would believe all the propaganda being put out that the Allies would attack elsewhere, leaving their intended target relatively undefended and ripe for the taking. He gambled on the weather being calm enough to make an amphibious landing possible. The man gambled on the very lives and equipment of the Allies in an operation that had a very high probability of failure. But, do you know what he did, son?"

Harrison shook his head. "No, sir."

"He took the risk," Whitcomb said, his tone deadpan. "The odds be damned, he took the risk. Eisenhower knew something had to be done, and despite many naysayers that believed his mission to be impossible, he succeeded. The invasion of Normandy was heralded as a turning point in the war. Now, don't assume for a second I haven't thought long and hard about this. There are a helluva lot of risks here, but if we succeed, the payoff will be worth the risk."

Whitcomb took a deep breath before clasping his hands behind his back, his eyes fixed upon Harrison. It was almost disconcerting, as Harrison couldn't tell if the man had even blinked in the last couple of minutes. "Humanity needs a victory. For too long we've known only defeat after defeat, loss after loss. It's time we renewed hope in humanity's chances for survival, and that we send the Covenant a message that will shake them to the core. We will not go quietly into the night. We will fight back, and bring the fight to them. Humanity is counting on us to succeed, or else our entire species will face extinction."